After getting healed, Berat tried to stand up.
The moment Berat staggered to his feet, Kael let out a slow, mocking clap.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Each sound echoed, thick with ridicule.
"Look at you," Kael sneered, tilting his head. "All that big talk, all that woof woof woof—and you can barely fucking stand?" He ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned. "You sure you don't need another potion, big guy? Maybe one for your pride?"
Berat spat to the side, his nostrils flaring in rage. "I'm going to rip that fucking mouth of yours off your face!"
Kael cackled. "Oh, that's cute. Then come on, Captain of the North. Let's see what you got!"
Berat roared and lunged forward, swinging his sword with all his strength.
But it was too slow.
Kael stepped to the side, effortlessly dodging. The blade cut through empty air, and in the same motion, Kael slammed his elbow into Berat's ribs. Crack. Berat gasped, stumbling back as pain exploded in his side.
